


A Spring Reawakening

by Arvalier



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Remix, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvalier/pseuds/Arvalier
Summary: How do romantic love stories begin?In Eryn Galen, on the night of Spring Festival, one of them begins with a ribbon.
Relationships: Glorfindel/Legolas Greenleaf, Lindir/Tauriel, unrequited Haldir/Legolas
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnnamedElement (Unnamed_Element)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unnamed_Element/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Spring Surprise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005230) by [IgnobleBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/pseuds/IgnobleBard). 



> Story elements: A poetic description of the setting or landscape, preferably the woods or the ocean. This could be an illusion or a metaphor. Longing. Negotiating cultural differences.
> 
> This story is a remix of A Spring Surprise by IgnobleBard. The story title is meant to allude that I'm reviving it, in a grander scale and with my own twist.
> 
> Beta: IgnobleBard himself! Always spoiling me with readiness to help and excellent beta work. Thank you so much, my friend! My gratitude knows no bounds.
> 
> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership, only love for these characters. Credit of the song lyrics at the end of the story belongs to Cirque du Soleil.

The grand ballroom hall was resplendent in its most opulent fineries, adorned in master craftsmanship of woodwork, stonemasonry and drapery weaving. Live greenery had been skillfully coaxed into hanging ornaments, overhead arches, pillar-climbing coils and decorative mounds. Each of those arrangements provided bed or cradle to their own vibrant explosion of fragrant, colourful blossoms that would make anyone pause to admire their beauty. Laid out beneath the stunning feast for the eyes was also a spread of an equally magnificent feast of wine and delicacies, served in vitreous glazed dishes. Gleaming utensils and elegantly tinted glassware completed the array.

Spring celebration in Eryn Galen was truly a sight to behold, a rejuvenation of body and spirit for all woodland life. Springtime did not just mark the reawakening from dormancy to vigour, it also heralded the tide of new births. From deep beneath the forest floor to the peak of Erebor, plants and animals alike replenished what had been lost by bringing forth more progeny, each new arrival adding its unique note to the Song of the Great Forest.

Thus it came as no wonder for the wood-elves who loved nature above all else, to value and honour the Spring Festival more so than their Noldorin cousins. The festive mood was so thick and bright it sucked everything and everyone in without reserve. It was a moment to forget all the cares in the world for a while and simply rejoice in being alive.

Long had it been since any elf from the Hidden Valley had set foot in the halls of the Woodland King. And it would remain that way for longer than both sides cared to remember－which in Thranduil's case, not whatsoever－were it left as it was. But time had called for a change, as unsettling rumours from former enemy territories, as well as an alarming increase in orcs incursions, portended dark times ahead.

Which brought Glorfindel of balrog-slaying fame, Captain of Imladris' armed forces, to this moment, as an official guest on an important mission to break the age-long ice between the estranged realms and mend the ties that were broken at the end of the Second Age. No doubt the rocky road towards reconciliation would be riddled with obstacles, but a pragmatist like him could at least take comfort in the knowledge that neither side, not even Thranduil himself, would be wholly opposed to the idea of gaining more allies as once again times began to grow turbulent and rife with enemies.

The dinner banquet seemed markedly casual and far from time-consuming. Everyone from the Greenwood was of the same mind in feasting well but also moderately and quickly for they were still given the chance to eat and drink throughout the ball, as the revelry was known to last until the break of dawn. They eagerly moved on to the main event, which took place in the grand ballroom. Thranduil took Legolas' hand and commenced the first dance, their fluid synchronized motions observed by the proud and approving looks of their subjects.

After the first dance, there was a moment of hushed silence, as if the crowd was holding its collective breath. Legolas took a step back and Thranduil turned to face the mass gathered within the hall. With no rush and a slow smile on his lips, the king then gave one solid, loud clap of hands.

All at once, the whole place erupted into a panoply of unbridled vivacity and concerted entertainments. Songs and music filled the air. Performance artists and dancers took to the floor, occupying their assigned areas as they staged mesmerizing displays of their talents. Court jesters popped in and out among unwary guests, surprising them with amusing magic tricks that elicited spontaneous laughter and applause. Beastmasters also joined the troop by making rounds among the guests with their exotic－some even dangerous－animals, stopping here and there to allow them to be petted by anyone willing. None of the animals walked in chains or shackles, for the elven folk loathed such methods of taming.

There was quite a commotion when out of nowhere, a white tiger blithely bumped her way through the physical barrier of the standing crowd and scared the living daylights out of a few unfortunate bystanders. The majestic creature bounded across the dance floor, accompanied by some high-pitched shrieks and shouts of alarm, and stopped short before the presence of the highly amused Greenwood royals, much to the embarrassment of her flustered caretaker who finally caught up with his wayward charge.

Not bothered in the slightest, Thranduil simply extended his hand and stroked the giant cat on the head. Right away, the tiger closed her eyes and purred appreciatively. Thranduil spoke a few words of admonition to behave, so meekly to the more affectionate prince she went, who stooped to give her a thorough ear scratching and a promise of playtime in the near future. Mollified, the tiger went back to performing her duty for the night.

Despite the somewhat shocking, yet undeniably enchanting, feel of the whole scene, Glorfindel couldn't help but note that there was a curious game being played among the guests. Almost all of them either carried or wore a ribbon on their person, some less visibly than the others, likely the ribbon tucked away somewhere in the fold of their flowing sleeves. The only people truly without ribbons, he observed, were foreign guests like himself. So this must be a custom of the Greenwood natives.

Upon closer scrutiny, he learned that each of the ribbon bore the owner's name, stitched artfully in a complimentary color.

Pure curiosity made him station himself in an inconspicuous yet strategic corner to watch, rather than enjoying the shows or seeking a partner to join the dancing. He supposed he could just ask someone from the Greenwood to explain the significance of the ribbons to him, but something gave him pause; something he couldn't quite put a finger on, but somehow knew he wouldn't like. So he decided to keep his counsel for now.

Once upon a time, he would have loved nothing more than to immerse himself completely into the thick of the wildest, most uninhibited merrymaking spree. He had been young then, and driven by endless appetite for worldly pleasures. Now he was more than sated for this kind of thing and only wished for simplicity in life.

It didn't take long for some development to unfold, to which his dulled interest immediately turned keen. Confirming his suspicion, amidst the bustling social gala, he began to notice a pattern and witness the exchange of ribbons between participants, usually preluded with an intimate dance or conversation. There was no mistaking what was being expressed between those couples, and it made a whole lot of sense to Glorfindel's mind. Spring, after all, was all about the celebration of love.

At first, he found it an endearing gesture, to present your beloved with a token of your professed affections. If accepted, the owner would then tie their ribbon upon a male's upper arm or a female's wrist, both their eyes shining with the promise of spending the night, possibly even the rest of their lives, together.

Glorfindel naively thought it was a romantic tradition... until he saw someone already wearing another's ribbon presenting their own ribbon to a third person. And said third person accepted it. Together, they headed toward the first giver, and then it was the third person's turn to tie their ribbon on the first person's arm to complete their circle.

Glorfindel's jaws grew slack for one dumb moment as he realized that maybe this custom wasn't so much about true love than just an invitation to have sex.

No sooner did this realization set in than he belatedly realized that someone had already closed in on him. A dark-haired, fresh-faced noble who bore the hallmarks of a distinguished scholar greeted him with well-rehearsed pleasantries, luring the elf lord with small talk and then flattering him by appearing genuinely curious and rapt in whatever Glorfindel had to say.

It was a truly convincing act, had Glorfindel not known better.

So when the moment finally came for the ellon's ribbon to be offered to him, a small part of him wished he could summon the prudence to act a little more surprised, or charmed at least. Yet the rest of him remained unmoved and would not put up the charade.

Glorfindel turned down the offer without elaborating his reasons, only giving a faint sliver of a regretful smile. Millennia of experience had taught him how to navigate himself in social dealings like this. Sometimes he found himself walking a tightrope of diplomatic duties that required some personal sacrifices, but for tonight, he believed he needn't worry overmuch, as proven by how graciously his rejection was taken, followed by the noble's acquiescent retreat.

Everyone wanted to make the most of this decadent night. Those who loitered in indecision and inaction would greet the dawn alone.

Glorfindel saw nothing wrong with such a prosaic attitude. However, he thought he needed to make a slight attitude adjustment of his own. Gone was his open, trusting amicability when meeting new faces. In its place now was polite wariness. He knew he would have to fend off more propositions before the night ended. It wasn't arrogance, simply a statement of fact. Oh, he knew his presence in the king's court had turned more than a few heads, even before they knew who he was. If his looks and natural magnetism weren’t enough incentive, hearing his legendary name would push even the most reticent elf to try their luck.

He was only lucky that the stunning pair of father and son made for a striking competition in capturing everyone's attention. But on a night dedicated to risqué pursuits such as this, there was no escaping his bold admirers.

And right on cue, another elf, this time a lady with a demure smile, belied by her confident gait, approached him in a slow, measured overture. She tried to strike up an innocent conversation with the elf lord, all the while lowering her kohl-outlined eyes and fingering the ribbon tied to the front of her dress in a dainty bow, a subtle yet calculated attempt of guiding Glorfindel's focus to her ample bosom , and of course, her own ribbon waiting to be bestowed upon the lucky suitor she chose.

Glorfindel bit back a sigh and tried to appear cordial.

Sex without attachment was frowned upon in Imladris. When someone approached you, they usually did so with deep and serious intention, never just a wish for one night stand. Here, the difference couldn't be any more glaring than that between the ivory gull and the raven. Casual sex between anybody and everybody seemed to be the norm.

Glorfindel could never get behind the idea of having sex with someone he barely knew, let alone a total stranger. And as for the topic of sharing his lover with other people, there wasn't ever going to be a topic to discuss there. He would halt that idea before it burgeoned in anyone's mind.

He found his eyes and mind wandering a bit as the young lady relayed to him an anecdote of her visit to the Golden Wood and the rare but cherished opportunity to have made Lady Arwen's acquaintance, hoping to spark the kind of talk Glorfindel would love engaging in as it concerned one of the people he considered close family. Inside, he felt bored to tears and wished she would just lay down her cards so he could properly turn her down. But she kept droning on and on about everything under the sky.

Glorfindel dimly wondered if the pride of this young lady made her expect him to make the first move, to utter the question she was dying to hear. The desperation of her attempt had begun to cross the line into cringeworthiness. As he decided to be merciful and put her out of misery, a pair of females with sharp features wearing more austere dresses suddenly cut in with such abruptness it made him think their tether had just snapped .

He was frankly a little taken aback.

The lady in the more flowery dress shot the pair of newcomers an acerbic look that could corrode steel, chiding that it was rude and unladylike to interrupt a riveting conversation. Her contenders did not flinch and, miffed, shot back that it was rude to enforce a one-sided conversation and hold a gentleman prisoner by sheer shameless stubbornness. The comeback really hit home and before Glorfindel could have a chance to intervene, the argument quickly escalated into a full-blown head clash of feminine wiles. Barbed insults were traded back and forth. What they lacked in the gall to spew obscenities, they more than made up with their heavy lambasting and the amount of buried dirt spanning through ages, places and even family trees they could dredge up in short order. 

It made him crave a stiff drink.

He turned away, looking for the nearest wine-serving area, or servant, to salvage his withering sanity. Instead of finding his sought for relief, he stumbled upon a dreaded discovery. Judging from the many surreptitious eyes watching his every move, he couldn't help feeling there was a queue line of hell waiting for him. He was completely surrounded. 

Retiring to the safety of his rooms was starting to look more and more like a perfect plan...

...until he espied Lindir, who seemed to be having the time of his life on the ballroom floor, dancing with a redhead beauty in a sea green dress who obviously captivated him from the way his smitten gaze couldn't seem to leave her.

Glorfindel inwardly cursed. He couldn't leave the ball just yet. He still had to keep an eye on Erestor's favorite pupil and Elrond's steward-in-training. If anything even remotely traumatic happened to his charge, both of his old friends would nail his hide to the wall.

It was Elrond's idea to send Lindir along with him to Eryn Galen. The bright young elf was being groomed to assume the formidable responsibility of running Elrond's household, much to Erestor's approval. Elrond wanted to give him as much exposure to the diverse cultures of different elven realms as possible so he could build a repertory of experience and knowledge to deal with foreign guests staying in Imladris.

Glorfindel was brought back to his present situation by a chorus of voices calling his name. He drew his gaze back to the females, to be met by their expectant silence, as if they were waiting for his final answer. Well, in that case, he definitely had one for them.

He turned down all three of them and excused himself.

Making a beeline toward the refreshment tables, he caught a trailing movement out of the corner of his eye. He did not want to turn his head and just focused on reaching his goal before anyone could intercept him. He was so intent on avoiding meeting anyone's eyes and pointedly ignoring everything that tried to catch his attention, he very nearly rammed into a much slighter figure walking backwards with the full force of his strapping bulk and simmering ire.

Quick reflexes saved him from making an embarrassing scene, especially since the one he was about to send sprawling to the floor was none other than the crown prince of the Greenwood. Glorfindel gripped the slim waist, the first thing his hands flew to catch, and helped the collapsing prince regain his balance. He had thought his night couldn't get any worse.

"My apologies, Prince Legolas. You caught me at one of my clumsiest moments. I should hope it won't happen again."

Their too close proximity made Legolas have to peer up slightly, and wonder in idle curiosity if Glorfindel might actually be taller than his father. They had been formally introduced to each other before the feast began, but this was actually the first chance they could exchange more than a few words.

Legolas collected himself and stepped back with a minute shake of his head. "'Tis a shared blame that I must redress as well with more than just an apology, Lord Glorfindel. But first, if you don't mind my asking, what makes you cut a path in such determined haste? Is there something wrong?" He frowned, not liking the thought that something undesirable had prompted the king's honored guest to rush away.

"Nay, nothing of the dire sort, it's just..." Glorfindel took a moment to find the right words. "I mean no disrespect, but how do I convey to those who seek to invite me that my getting involved in some outlandish custom I can barely make head or tail of on my first night in the Greenwood is a terrible idea?"

A bloom of an understanding smile that held both relief and a degree of amusement took over Legolas' serious look. He knew exactly how Glorfindel felt. "So you just want these people to stop asking you out."

"Well, yes, to put it bluntly."

"Then I believe I have a solution for you."

Of all the possible things Glorfindel could remotely think of or expect to hear next, watching the prince calmly pull a green ribbon from inside his flared sleeve and proceed to tie it on Glorfindel's upper left arm like it was the most natural thing to do clearly wasn't a move he had anticipated. He couldn't say he was thrilled to see the very thing he wanted nothing to do with put on his person without his consent or even request for his permission, no matter if it came from the prince of the realm. His demeanor couldn't hide how much he resented the idea.

"Here. This should keep your avid admirers at bay," beamed Legolas obliviously.

"And what does wearing this ribbon mean, if not establishing an involvement I cannot seem to avoid?" Glorfindel spoke up with an almost biting tone, dripping with icy displeasure.

His words struck Legolas, who looked unsure for a speechless moment. Yet surprisingly, he did not back down nor look affronted, opting to meet the thinly veiled antagonism with genuine sincerity instead.

"For you? It means absolutely nothing, Captain," Legolas answered placatingly as he retreated to a respectable distance. "Please forgive my overt forwardness, for that is also our way in the Greenwood, which I oft need to remind myself those from different realms may not find so welcome. But I truly mean you well. If you can find the forbearance to wear that ribbon until the end of the ball, I promise you none shall attempt to importune you anymore. Not even the king nor myself."

Legolas gave one last smile assuring all was well between them. "I shall leave you to your own devices now."

"Wait!" Glorfindel felt his cautious distrust of everyone was getting out of hand and would cost him dearly. If eyes were the window to the soul, the prince had his radiating warmth, kindness, wisdom and fortitude. He did not mince words or dilly-dally in frivolities. How could one not want to befriend someone like him?

"I know I can be quite taxing to anyone's patience, but if you could spare a moment of your time for this old crusty elf, you would turn my night around."

Glorfindel's heart was warmed by the sweet laugh that escaped from Legolas before he could rein in his bubbling amusement.

"I happen to know quite a few souls who aren't fooling anyone with their so-called tough crusts. We, as family and friends, just let them believe they have us all convinced of their hardened and emotionally impenetrable persona, when in reality, we know how soft their hearts can be." Glorfindel thought he saw his eyes flicker imperceptibly toward the far end of the room where the king's throne was located.

"I also happen to be very fond of them," continued Legolas, his soft smile suddenly turned mischievous. "But calling yourself old crusty elf is not something I will let you forget. Ever. You brought this on yourself."

Glorfindel gladly shrugged off the court formality and responded with a teasing jest of his own. "Insolent imp! Has no one ever taught you to respect your elders? If so, I can certainly be of service to your kingdom!"

The prince laughed again and for the first time that night, Glorfindel felt himself beginning to relax, settling into the festive mood and actually looking forward to what the promising night had to offer.

Legolas inclined his head in invitation to walk with him. "Come. I will show you around. The grand ballroom isn't the only place that serves entertainment for the guests. We have multi-leveled areas teeming with games and attractions for tonight's endless fun, waiting for those who care to explore beyond the confines of this stuffy ballroom. I bet you will have stories to tell your people in Imladris."

Glorfindel went several steps before he remembered something, paused and turned around to where he last saw Lindir, apparently still with the same lady. He spotted them taking a break from the dancing in favor of petting a tamandua. It was like watching an indoor savant on their first field trip, being handed a live specimen of a creature they only knew of from books. Lindir looked hilariously torn between feeling amazed and horrified as the young tamandua climbed upon his outstretched arm and nonchalantly made its way up to curl around his nape and shoulders. If only Glorfindel could immortalize that image on a painting to share with the rest of the Valley...

Comicality aside, he was in a bit of quandary. Leaving with Legolas would mean leaving Lindir on his own. That wouldn't be much of a problem if not for the whole... monkey business of seduction and libertine traps abounding under this cavern roof tonight. Of course Lindir was more than capable of watching out for himself and by no means a patsy, but Glorfindel had always had too much ingrained sense of obligation toward family and friends that was hard to shake off even at times like this. Should he go and warn him first? Or should he let him be, respect his independence to grow and learn on his own terms?

Glorfindel snapped back to the present and abashedly realized how long he must've stood there unable to make up his mind when he heard Legolas' voice coming close from his side. "Are you worried about your friend? Your significant other, perhaps?"

"No," he answered, perhaps a bit too hurriedly. "He is just a good friend, which makes it all the more difficult to not worry over his relative youth and inexperience. But I do trust him."

 _'Just not so much with the rest of the crowd,'_ was the thought he kept to himself.

"Tauriel will look after him," Legolas spoke without insinuation. "She's really not the social butterfly type. The fact that she chooses to stay with your friend, a foreign guest from distant land, beyond the dictates of decorum could only mean your friend has charmed her with qualities she always values in a person. Wits, candor and modesty. There's no one in this room whom I trust more than her. Your friend is in safe hands. And she will stay with him for a good while, or until he tires of her company."

He should've guessed that Legolas would be astute enough to sense his misgivings and provide all the answers he needed. He honestly shouldn't feel all that surprised by every little considerate thing the prince did or said. Above all, he shouldn't exaggerate how appreciatively drawn it made him feel.

Mistaking his silence for hesitancy, Legolas made an alternative offer. "We can invite them to join us if you wish."

Glorfindel shook his head, finally reaching a satisfying concession he could accept. "That won't be necessary. Your words are the all the assurance I need. Shall we go, my prince?"


	2. Chapter 2

"You must really think us a swarm of vultures ready to swoop in and devour you whole."

They had made their way to the far end of the ballroom and ascended the wide steps that led to another spacious area equally adorned for the celebration. From here on, the surroundings view opened up to the vast bowels of the mountain.

Glorfindel could see a scattered formation of split terraces, appearing like some interesting growths of flat head mushrooms, each of them differing in breadth and floor height and somehow made accessible through a maze-like network of sinuous bridges and winding staircases . There was no rhyme or reason to the structural and space mapping. Conventional floor plans must be eternal in-jokes to the underground builders and cave dwellers alike.

The thing that took him by surprise, even more than the quaint layout of his vicinity, was the fact that the revels occupied every inch of every utilizable space and stretched on as far as his eyes could see. Only now Glorfindel was beginning to perceive the magnitude of the Greenwood's Spring Festival.

Hearing that particular topic brought up again made him turn his head to read the sentiment behind those words. Though they were said lightly and with a teasing note, he caught something almost like a hint of insecurity in Legolas' receding smile. "We are really not that bad at any other time. Only tonight do we make special exemption, as daring feats breaking from one's usual fetters are greatly encouraged."

"We are immortal, but we are not deathless. This may sound mundane to your ear, but it's the one philosophy that we embrace in such keen awareness everyday. The threat of darkness makes sure we never forget. That's why our people would rather make mistakes and have regrets than taste the bitterness of not doing a thing until it's too late.

Though admittedly, and regretfully, some of us here may take the whole living in the moment thing a bit too far, I yet hope that does not deter you from feeling at home among our kin. None of us wish you and yours intentional harm in any way."

Glorfindel felt like he just had an episode of moral reckoning which in equal parts induced shame of his failure to be more tolerant, if not receptive, to foreign cultural ideas and woke him up to a better understanding of the Greenwood Silvans. His heart seized with chagrin and disappointment in himself, he didn't know where to start to disabuse the prince of the hidebound impression he had made. He didn't want Legolas to think that he disapproved of their way of living and conducting themselves, and therefore not desiring to assimilate with them, because nothing could be further than the truth.

Glorfindel stopped walking and caught Legolas by his arm, made him turn around to face him with a slight desperation.

"My prince, I'm undeserving of your kindness as I've shown none to your people so far, to my shameful regret. I realized now that all they did was welcome me to their fold in their own way, not dismiss me as an off-limits outsider."

Thinking back to the bickering ladies, like watching a live chapter of a romance saga featuring the ongoing war of the court roses, made him unable to contain a small burst of laughter.

"In fact, they came at me with everything they've got. I admit I felt besieged and inconvenienced at first, but now after hearing your side of the story, I fail to see why I should feel anything but flattered."

Glorfindel looked down to where he touched the prince, thinking he should let go but not without some delay. The warmth was so inviting, after all. His mind liked to pretend that it was perfectly normal to let his hand slide down the arm before breaking contact. Nothing unusual between friends, of course. 

When he brought up his gaze again, his mien was all solemn gravity. "As an emissary of the Valley, please give me another chance to ameliorate the impression I have made on you. I would not have you think that we do not bear love and trust for our woodland kin."

Legolas blushed slightly at Glorfindel's choice of words, whether intentional or not. He was having a hard time trying not to read too much into real or imagined signals coming from someone who blatantly wanted to be left alone in peace on his first night in the stronghold. It would do him no good to let his heart and hope wander into treacherous territory. Friendship, camaraderie... that was the best course of relations to build in the long run for both of their lands.

"The same can be said of myself and our people too, so I would not let you hog the blame," rejoined Legolas thoughtfully. "You speak of the very issue, bred largely from ignorance and unfamiliarity, that both sides need to work together on rectifying. To love and trust, we must first learn to know each other."

"You speak wise words echoing my own belief," agreed Glorfindel wholeheartedly. "For my part, I know just where to start on my path of learning to achieve better understanding. And your help will be a boon of great value."

Surprised and definitely intrigued with what kind of initiative Glorfindel had in mind, Legolas was ready to oblige and assist in any way he could. "Pray tell. I'm all ears."

Raising his arm slightly to indicate the ribbon tied neatly above his elbow, Glorfindel made his request. "Will you teach me all about this particular custom of yours?"

It was only a moment of hesitation, very briefly too, like his confidence had fallen into a chasm. Then it was gone without a trace as if Glorfindel had just seen a mirage. It shouldn't matter, whatever that was, but he had to wonder why that little glimpse of vulnerability seemed to be stuck in his mind.

Legolas nodded to himself, "Very well, Lord Glorfindel. I suppose that is only fair, considering... the challenges you have been put through. You deserve the insight to form your own plan of action next time－should fate grant us a next time, or share the knowledge with your Imladrin peers for future reference."

An airy sweep of hand indicated a turn of path they should take. "But first, there is something I wish to show you."

They continued walking again for some time until they reached another hall strangely darkened with dim lighting overall. This particular site resembled a closed enclave, visually cut off from the rest of the underground cavern, with its own separate lighting scheme.

Many guests stood around and crowded the space, but appeared to stay clear some distance away from the centre area where there seemed to be a number of curtain strips of colorful fabric hanging from the dome-like ceiling. Glorfindel looked up and barely discerned some kind of contraption that was connected to a rigging that held each long piece of fabric doubled into some kind of two-tailed flowing rope coming down to the ground. The height from the rigging to the floor itself, he gauged, must be more than 30 feet.

Just when Glorfindel began to wonder what was about to start, the hall was suddenly plunged into absolute darkness, followed by utter silence as all guests respectfully ceased their voices. Then it began, the sound of drumbeat, faint at first then gaining intensity, like war drums drawing closer to a battlefield. It tricked the heartbeat to thump faster. And when it reached an almost shattering crescendo, it disappeared without preamble, near leaving Glorfindel choked.

The lighting came back on bright and focused on the main stage, making a dramatic revelation of a score of males and females hung motionless from the strips of fabric in various poses. They all wore tight fitting clothing, the men bare-chested, which turned them into a canvas of forest paintings. Even their faces were painted in shades of green, blue, purple and silver, further accentuating the feel of unworldliness.

Softly the music flowed in and the frozen forms stirred. Like forest spirits waking to greet the spring, they began their dance.

Glorfindel sucked in his breath in awe. The dance was such a daring act of astounding degree. The dancers twirled, posed and performed choreographed acrobatics high in the air with no safety lines or cushioned floor in sight, relying solely on their skill and training to avoid the worst kind of disaster while also putting on a stimulating thrill for the audience. And with such a clever composition of different heights and positions of each performer, the audience was made to behold a breathtaking chandelier of aerial dancers.

The transcendental atmosphere was infused with the melody of hypnotic drumbeat and spellbinding flute, with an array of string instruments providing a majestic depth enhanced further by the hymnic chant of ululant voices, sounding ancient beyond remembrance yet pulsing with brilliant vibrancy.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Glorfindel felt divested of his age and returned to his younger days, when the simple act of waking up every day filled him with excitement, seeking the promise of new wonder and adventure of the unknown.

The magic of the moment also awakened a strange yearning for something he couldn't quite grasp.

Though the likelihood of the dancers falling from such a neck-breaking height must be as slim as that of a wood-elf falling from a tree, Glorfindel still couldn't help holding his breath, sometimes gasping a little, at every risky move they performed; from wrapping their limbs and spiralling their bodies into graceful contour lines to suddenly dropping from the height in a heart-stopping free fall, rolling to a stop before reaching the ground. More than a few maneuvers even included releasing their hands, the weight of their bodies suspended precariously through daredevil foot locks or ankle hangs.

When the show was over after a lengthy time that yet felt too soon, the entire captive audience gave such a thundering applause that it must have resounded throughout the entire stronghold, a widespread testament of what had just transpired.

"I have never laid eyes on such an ethereal performance," admitted Glorfindel some time later after they had moved away from the scene and changed to a more quiet, relaxing spot on a ledge overlooking the festivities from higher altitude. That strategic lounging place also came furnished with a lineup of refreshment tables, from which Legolas came back bringing two goblets of wine. Glorfindel took the offered drink with a murmur of thanks.

"The dance of Fana-uin-menel (Raiment of the Sky)," explained Legolas with a tone of pride and reverence. "Or Aerial Silks as some would call it. This dance is an amalgam art possessing origins of both Sindar and Silvan roots, both cave and tree dwellers. It is only performed on the night of Spring Festival."

"Do you note the make of cloth used for the hanging ropes?" asked Legolas. "'Tis the same kind we use for our ribbons."

Indeed, those enormous ribbons used in the dance were exact parallels in shape and form with the ribbons the Silvans－and himself－were wearing, only differing in size. Even the way they tied the ribbons, with a simple doubled-over knot that left two trailing tails was the spitting image of the dance prop.

"I suppose the similarity is not coincidental," Glorfindel voiced his speculation.

Legolas nodded affirmatively. "Our ribbon tradition represents our view regarding the bond of true love. The aerial dance and the token worn on Spring Festival are but a few of its manifestations, many more are found at other times of the year, but most notably at our bonding ceremonies."

They were standing close enough to each other for Legolas to raise his hand and briefly touch the flowing tails of his borrowed ribbon to illustrate his point.

"The fabric of this ribbon may look deceptively flimsy, but you might be surprised by how strong and durable it is, as you have witnessed yourself through the dance. In a way, this piece of fabric is the representation of everything we believe in the bond of true love.

Love should not weigh you down, nor should it be selfishly delimiting. On the contrary, love should set you free, raise you to unimaginable heights－even to dance in the sky, drive you to reach for and accomplish impossible things. Love breaks you from your hröa’s finite self."

"That is why you'd likely notice that relationships in Greenwood are... a departure from the traditional kind, ranging from mild to extreme degree. I have heard how the Noldor adhere to high ideals of marital and romantic relationships. In comparison, we must seem like a lusty, iniquitous bunch to you; defiler of the sacred." Both of them couldn't stifle a quirk of a smile at the joke.

"Nevertheless," continued Legolas. "At the very end, we all seek the same thing. The binding of hearts and souls for eternity."

Glorfindel listened to the enlightening discourse and more in-depth facts; such as the unspoken rules in giving and receiving a ribbon, the lines that should not be crossed by anyone－apparently, that included not approaching the wearer of the king's or the prince's ribbon without a good, chaste reason, with a growing admiration and affection. He thought he could listen to Legolas' deep, mellifluous voice without ever getting bored. Strange, because he was never a patient listener type. Yet somehow, he would love to spend time talking about just anything with the prince, bask in his discerning eloquence and refreshingly witty humour, maybe share his innermost thoughts and secrets one day－he would like that very much.

Yet, that was not all. A frothy restlessness also stirred in his heart, exacerbated each time he said or did something trivial that drew an unexpected reaction from Legolas. One moment they were laughing together over a lewd joke, the next moment Legolas' smile faltered and became strained. One moment they were jesting like old friends, the next moment the prince withdrew into himself with a veiled, sad look.

Another thing that was also unexpected was his own mounting frustration at wanting to tear down the invisible barrier between them.

They were so immersed in their own world it took a while for either of them to register another presence joining them silently from behind, but only by a small margin. Glorfindel's warrior instinct could sense the kingly aura from a distance and Legolas seemed to always know right away whenever his father was nearby. They both turned in unison to greet the approaching king.

"Well met again, Highness. I'm simply dazzled by your whole kingdom. Everything I have seen and experienced tonight is a marvel of one novelty after another. I count myself fortunate to have made it here in due time and be a part of all this," said Glorfindel.

Thranduil made a show of looking pleased and flattered. "I can see now why Elrond chose you to be the first Imladris official to grace my great halls again. Even your niceties ring true, believably so. You're a bit like my son in that regard."

"Prince Legolas is the most honest and unpretentious man I have ever met, speaking only of what he truly feels. I can only feel honored to be compared to him," returned Glorfindel without hesitation.

That was... quite a brilliant comeback, Thranduil had to admit grudgingly. Such a clever twisting of words meant to slight him into a compliment to both himself and his host. Even Legolas' expression lit up with admiring delight. Thranduil couldn't blame him. Not every day had they the chance to encounter someone who could keep their wits and nerves intact when being borne down on by his intimidating presence.

And that's the thing he found vexing about Elrond's right-hand elf. That he had no problem being so self-assured, so... relaxed, even in the presence of the notoriously mercurial king, to the point of looking oblivious that he'd just deflected a verbal jab.

No matter, Thranduil could cede round one to him as he spotted another opening, a chance to fluster the all too unflappable warrior.

"How remarkably expeditious of you, Captain. Securing my son's ribbon right from day one of your visit. You certainly carry out whatever mission your lord has delegated to you with frightening efficiency."

"Lord Glorfindel only wishes to enjoy tonight's celebration without constant interruptions of the more salacious nature. I offered my help. He accepted. The problem is solved. That's all there is. Whatever you're looking for is non-existent, Adar."

Not only did Glorfindel not react to the backhanded compliment, his son was the one jumping to his defense. How much more annoying could it get?

"Oh. Is he another Haldir then?" Thranduil sniffed in disdain.

Funnily enough, the last passing remark ended up being something that finally drew a reaction from the elf lord. Legolas looked like he couldn't believe his father had just casually brought up that unnecessary bit of information of his past in present company. He stressed his next words carefully so Thranduil would take a hint. "That old story has no bearing on here and now. Please stop fishing around."

"May I know what Haldir did to you that I'm being accused of right now?" asked Glorfindel directly to Legolas.

"Nothing of the sort you need to worry about, I assure you. Haldir is a very good friend. What happened a long time ago was just a minor misunderstanding," said Legolas in a rush.

Thranduil interjected, "Minor misunderstanding? Is that what you call manipulating your kindness only to hang you out to dry?"

Legolas looked ready to call it quits and disappear from the awkward scene. He gave one last pleading look to his quarrelsome father. "Adar, the night has been going really well so far. Won't you let it stay that way, for my sake?"

Faced with such a forlorn look from his son, Thranduil finally capitulated with a dignified huff. He could never deny Legolas anything.

"If only you would stop making a habit of giving your ribbon to those who do not desire it. Your own ribbon is a far from inconsequential thing. I wish you're not so dismissive of its worth."

The reproachful tone was directed at Legolas, but he made a last slicing cut of a glare at Glorfindel as he finished his words, before he turned around to leave them be.

"I bid you enjoy the rest of your night, Captain."

As Glorfindel's pensive gaze trailed along the king's retreating back, the double direction of those stern words was not lost on him. Far from being offended, the snub made him thoughtful instead. Turning his eyes back to Legolas, who stood there looking apologetic, beautiful and radiant like a newly-kindled star, he felt he _could_ understand...

...and perhaps wanted the same thing as Thranduil.

For Legolas not to trivialize everything about himself, when he was just so...

_Impossible not to l-..._

Glorfindel reflexively bit his own tongue to stop that unbidden train of thought. He was distracted from further contemplation by Legolas' retelling of what he had wanted to know.

"Haldir is not at all as manipulative and uncaring as my father makes him out to be. Otherwise, I would not have felt attracted to him to begin with. But his hard-set mind can be such a tough nut to crack. And oh how he perfected his own art of swimming in denial. There has been a time when I don't think he could even figure out himself... and what his heart truly wanted."

"The last time he was here, some centuries ago, on the night of Spring Festival just like this, I think he finally found the answer he was looking for all along," Legolas' voice grew softer as he reached the conclusion of his story. "And that answer wasn't me."

Glorfindel's mind filled in the rest of the blanks. That glimpse of vulnerability he caught earlier, the distant look of melancholy as Legolas explained the finer intricacies of their ribbon tradition, bits of reaction he couldn't understand where they were coming from...

He had been making him relive the past in some way, unknowingly stirring the embers of memory. His actions tonight must be echoing the things Haldir did on that fateful night, the night when Legolas' heart got broken.

Glorfindel swore colourfully in his head.

Thinking back to what Thranduil had said, and the implications, he did not like the possibility that he could be repeating Haldir's action, treating Legolas' ribbon the same way Haldir had done in the past. He didn't want to be the unwitting cause of any more sadness in those gentle blue eyes. What would he see reflected in them when he returned his ribbon at the end of the night? Could he simply turn his back and pretend not to see anything?

The biggest question lingered and haunted him.

_What should he do?_


	3. Chapter 3

They spent hours following that unsettling epiphany talking, drinking, sampling Greenwood sweets and savouries on different tables, and walking surprisingly long miles through the maze of festivities, occasionally stopping to watch a few more shows, until they were returned to the grand ballroom again.

Both of them had lapsed into companionable silence as they walked. Glorfindel had been lulled by the shift in the ambient music to a more tranquil mood and was lost in his own thoughts when Legolas surprised him with a question.

"Would you like to stay for the midnight ball?"

The midnight _what_? Glorfindel blinked. Was he saying there was another ball besides the one at full swing right now? He found he didn't need to ask, because by stroke of luck and unerring timing, the whole room and its people, as well as the music, suddenly dipped to a halt.

After a while, a vocalise of deep reverberating male voices followed and twined with the teasing lilt of lighter female voices filled the interlude. Earthy tension hung in the air, hot and heavy.

As the vocalise ended, the music began again in a completely different tone, much darker than before.

It was the kind of music meant to stoke and inflame arousal.

Glorfindel watched in dumbfounded incredulity as the crowd began to react to the music. Outer layers of formal robes and dresses were shed. More expanse of flawless skin, inviting necklines and rippling muscles were revealed. Appreciative gazes were openly traded. Dancing had become a loose term for an excuse to touch, caress, even well... rub on each other openly.

By now Glorfindel had thought he had an inkling of what to expect from the quirky woodland folk, but once again, he had been royally had.

"With the varying degrees of reaction we receive every year from new faces or foreign guests, ranging from mild shock to scandalized outrage, I'm surprised that the knowledge of our midnight ball is not more notorious outside of Greenwood," said Legolas almost conversationally, as if commenting about the weather instead of the entire crowd's inexorable descent into writhing debauchery. "Somewhere along the line, I guess they all agreed that 'What happens in the Greenwood, stays in the Greenwood'."

He felt Legolas lean in and bump his shoulder lightly－which secretly delighted him to no end, that the prince had grown comfortable enough with him to do this kind of thing without reluctance.

"Do you want to do something about that?"

Glorfindel followed his line of sight and caught on to what he was talking about. He was surprised to find Lindir still sticking around until this late hour. They were both exhausted after having just arrived a handful of hours earlier, just long enough to manage a quick wash of their road grime, make hasty preparations for the ball, and little else.

Glorfindel knew for a certainty Lindir did not possess the kind of physical stamina he had and must be running out of steam by now. And unlike Glorfindel who must carry out the bulk of this diplomatic mission, Lindir was freed by Elrond to simply learn and do things at his own pace. To push and tire himself beyond necessity was simply uncalled for.

It did not take long for him to learn the reason as he spotted the dangling ribbon on Lindir's left arm, no doubt courtesy of the redheaded lady.

"Well knock me down with a feather," Glorfindel muttered under his breath.

"Is it bad? Should I rescue your friend?" asked Legolas.

Glorfindel answered him quickly. "No. That would be meddling too far, and likely unforgivable. Moreover, I don't fancy my creature comforts at home jeopardized over gratuitous intervention."

"Then let me make sure he will be returned in one piece when my friend is done with him," quipped Legolas with a wink, before he nimbly plucked a tall glass of wine from a passing servant without disrupting their pace and passed it to Glorfindel, a small comfort while he waited.

Glorfindel watched Legolas walk towards the ballroom floor. He blamed it on the freely flowing wine, the sensual tunes strummed by the musicians, the unapologetically erotic mood the entire hall had slipped into, to find his eyes lingering on the luxuriant fall of moon-kissed golden hair, sliding down the tapering waist to the graceful sway of hips.

He moistened his dry lips with a sip of wine.

Mere physical attraction did not amount to anything worth taking action for.

_But it was more than mere physical attraction, wasn't it?_

Was it so unconscionable to have, and wish to give in to, a vagary of heart?

Was he not old enough, wise enough－had he not experienced enough things in his life－to know what his own heart wanted?

So what held him back, if not his own wretched cowardice?

Which regret would he prefer－making a mistake or not following his heart?

When Legolas returned to his side, he made up his mind.

Glorfindel finished the remaining wine in his glass. "I think I would like to retire to my rooms now. Would you walk with me to the very end of my exciting journey on this magical night?"

"You know I would," grinned Legolas.

Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say. The old adage never felt truer to Glorfindel than the present moment. Even the considerably long walk to his rooms ended too quickly, though it was likely due to his being too absorbed in listening to Legolas' plans and schedules to note the passing of time.

"Alas! I'm afraid we've come the the end of our adventure, sir knight," lamented Legolas playfully. "You deserve a good night's rest after your endless campaign of noble errantry."

Legolas moved closer to his side and began untying the ribbon on his arm. "Here, let me take this off of you first."

If Glorfindel still harboured any reservations, they vanished the moment the ribbon no longer became his right to wear, replaced with burning intent to reclaim it. Legolas looped the length of ribbon several times around his left palm like a loose bandage as he stepped back. Glorfindel didn't let Legolas go far before he reached out to capture the dangling end of the ribbon.

"There is a custom in Imladris," Glorfindel spoke somewhat slowly, eyes still fixed on the ribbon linking their hands. "For every visiting dignitary that attends a celebration, the host owes them a dance, whether they choose to call upon it or not. This may not be any concern of yours, but would you be willing to indulge one last request from me?"

Glorfindel paused, a weight of unnamed feeling in his eyes as he regarded the young prince.

"Would you dance with me before you go, my prince?" he asked.

"Of course I would. A dance is not that unreasonable a request. Why the sudden politeness though? I thought we have moved past that," answered Legolas candidly.

Taking in their surroundings, with the ballroom left far behind and the floating strains of music barely reaching them, Legolas' mind turned and the next question immediately came up. "Where are we going to — oh!"

Glorfindel pulled the ribbon, and with it, Legolas' hand. Without turning around and without breaking their gaze, he walked backwards into his rooms, prompting Legolas to follow him. The door closed behind them, sealing them in and off from the rest of the celebrating kingdom.

Legolas suddenly felt out of his depth. When Glorfindel let go of his hold on the ribbon, he found his feet unable to make another step forward. The feeling that he had walked into a daunting situation that he had no control of, something that was about to change his life forever, was slowly sinking in.

He was so embroiled in his muddled state he visibly jumped the moment Glorfindel shucked his heavy outer robe and plopped it down on the back of a settee, eyes widening like a startled fawn.

"We're not going to have midnight ball of our own, are we?" The joke flew out of his mouth before he could stop it, made worse by the slight tremor in his voice. Maybe he could still pretend that nothing was amiss and Glorfindel was just trying to get comfortable after a long night of courtly function.

Glorfindel smiled kindly, but did not stop. One by one, he unclasped the buttons of his tunic. The rich fabric slid off his shoulders in liquid ease, revealing his exquisitely muscled body that made Legolas want to wax lyrical about such perfect form. His mind was trapped in a conundrum, torn between the instinct to flee and the strong desire to feast his eyes on this golden apparition.

He didn't realize his faculty had left the premises as he stared in rapt fascination at the ideal form of this elven warrior’s physique until Glorfindel leaned in oh so close as he pulled the ribbon from Legolas' loosening grip. "Let me borrow this for a bit longer," he whispered.

Legolas thought he would faint in a heap on the floor as he watched Glorfindel tie the ribbon on his left arm, using only his right hand and the bite of his teeth. This could not be happening. This could only be conjured by his wildest dreams.

Before he knew it, his pliant body was enveloped in Glorfindel's strong arms, and they began dancing. Even with the absence of music, they easily fell into steps with the other's movements. Galvanized by their physical closeness, threads of inquisitive energy reached out from deep within their fëar, wanting to make contact, test their compatibility. Harmonious, synergic, in sync－could this be a sign that they were made for each other?

Legolas struggled to keep his blush under control.

"You look stunning tonight," said Glorfindel fondly.

His heart fluttering like a caged bird, he tried to dismiss the compliment. "Must be the finery I'm wearing."

"I'm afraid taking everything off would only prove me right," replied Glorfindel with a roguish grin.

Legolas groaned at the corniness, but understood that Glorfindel did it for him, to ease his nervousness.

"Do you know where that proper, respectable gentleman I've been spending time with went? I want him back."

"Any proper, respectable gentleman can only last so much if you keep smiling like that."

Legolas laughed a little breathlessly. "Like what?"

"Like you're really happy to have me here with you."

And just like that, Legolas' brittle confidence fell apart. He could not flee into the safety of his princely shell anymore. Everything that he felt was nakedly exposed and at Glorfindel's mercy, to be held dear or broken into unsalvageable pieces. He was afraid he would be lost in pain again and wouldn't know how to reclaim himself a second time.

"Glorfindel, I..."

Glorfindel watched his beautiful face flood with anxiety and his heart surged with a tidal wave of compulsion to protect and cherish.

"I know," he said, holding the trembling body closer, touching their foreheads together. Legolas didn't need to say anything to him, because words seemed superfluous in this fragile, soul-baring moment.

Yet he could not help springing one last mischief on his soon-to-be lover. "There's one thing you need to know, though."

Curious blue eyes waited for him to continue.

"I lied to you. I'm not returning your ribbon."

Glorfindel gleefully seized the chance to capture those luscious lips parted in surprise and slid his eager tongue inside, pouring all his love and unspoken promises into their first kiss.

o~o~o~o~o~o

For every nascent mystery, there is a mystifying beginning that sometimes escapes one’s notice until it has grown and engulfed them. Love was, perhaps, the most confounding mystery that nobody, not even the Valar themselves, could hope to understand. But who would want to solve that mystery, when the moment you found love, everything else faded into insignificance.

The dance continued, less coordinated, more blindly passionate. Their world was spinning in an intoxicating rhapsody of ecstasy. They divested each other of their restrictive clothing, impatient to conquer every inch of hidden, sensitive skin, their lips sharing both dominance and surrender, giving and taking pleasure. Their feet swayed ever so slightly to the combined music of their quickened breaths and needful moans, moving closer towards the bed.

And everything else faded into insignificance.

_I see a spark of life shining_

_I hear a young minstrel sing_

_There is a love in me raging_

_A joyous, magical feeling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! Now to share some pretty visuals and music that have helped and inspired my writing this fic.
> 
> If you have never heard of Aerial Silks, this [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIzHcbLr6j4) will give you a good picture of the imagery I attempted to create.
> 
> [Alegría In A New Light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5y5_VyEwZhc) \- AKA 'Welcome to Mirkwood Spring Festival' ;D
> 
> The song Alegría is also my personal Glorfindel/Legolas theme song for this fic.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my effort!


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